Knight of Khaine: The White Hunter
by SpartAl412
Summary: War has come to the western realms of the Empire, tribes of beasts gather in yet another horde intent on death and ruin. From across the sea, a warrior filled with anger and hate for all those who serve darkness hunts across the shadowed eaves. Soon, the children of Chaos will face a foe as brutal and savage as they are.
1. The White Hunter

The night was cold and unnerving to Gunter, his right hand was tightly clenched around the shaft of his spear his left holding a flaming torch, and he knew he was not alone in his fear as the company of over three dozen men along with him felt the same. The unnatural glow of the chaos moon Morrslieb covered the land in a sickly green glow that filled him with an unnatural cold that cut him deeper than the bone. Over the last few weeks there had been many reports of beasts on the move, of tribes gathering, merchant caravans and villages being raided, although not unusual as the beasts would have been hungry from the previous winter where hunting would have been difficult.

The company of Reikland state troopers cautiously carried on with their patrol in the forest north of Altdorf, nearing the border of Middenland, the men on the outer sections of the formation held torches aloft to banish the darkness, and provide sight for the company. Each man had drawn straws from the rest of the army to see who would go on this patrol and each man were the ones with the rotten luck of drawing the short one, some muttered nervous prayers to Sigmar, Ulric, Ranald, or whichever god might hear them, others quietly cursed for their predicament, regardless they kept to formation and followed their training, each man knew that if an attack were to happen each of them had better chances of surviving if they kept in formation.

In the darkness of the woods, Garkor watched the band of humans march. His tongue salivated at the thought of fresh meat, he looked to his right and saw his kin of gors and many weakling ungors clutching their weapons tightly as they felt and thought the same as he did, all they needed was the chieftains word and they would attack, Garkor offered a quick prayer of thanks to the mighty Skull Sitter, promising to add more to Throne this night. With a loud roar from east of their pack and a stampede of furry bodies and hooves, Garkor raised his rusty cleaver as his kin and he gave a unified roar of their own and charged towards the band of humans, intent on the slaughter.

Gunter's eyes widened in alarm as he and his company heard the roar, he quickly tossed his torch ahead of him and placed his left hand onto his spear. The Imperials didn't need orders to know what to do, at the front of the line with spears sticking out between him and the man next to him both to his left and to his right; he raised his weapon in time to meet the charge of the beasts. The company was first assailed by the stench of which was like a mixture of rotten meat and dung left to bake in the sun, before they laid eyes on the foe. Each man had fought these creatures at least once in their lives and each knew what to expect, but one could never get used to the sight and smell of them. Each was a mockery of men, many had bodies and features of various animals but most he noticed seemed to have the semblance of goats.

He met the charge of a wild eyed beast man wielding an axe raised high, he thrust his weapon before the beastman's descended, and Gunter felt the point stab into the mutant's gut. He held on in that brief moment and saw it get stabbed in the throat by the spearman behind him, the shaft over his right shoulder; it gurgled with blood and was quickly knocked over by a cleaver wielding beast man from behind, the corpse landed torso first onto Gunter. The Imperial fell onto his back as the corpse knocked him over taking the breath out of him and pinning him down, the hoof of another beast man nearly struck his face, intent on killing the man behind Gunter. He tried to get the beast off of him but quickly felt an intense crushing pressure on the corpse as more and more beast men charged forth towards his comrades, he felt as if his bones would break from the pressure and fear of death began to rapidly rise to the point of panic.

Garkor bleated in savage joy as his foe toppled, his body was spattered with blood and he licked his snout savoring the coppery taste. He swung his cleaver into another human, the blade sheared through the shaft of a pole-arm, the top of the cleaver dug a lethal gash into the man's exposed chin and dug throat while the rest of it carved a furrow through the top of the breastplate. The man fell dead and Garkor gave praise to the Skull Sitter, he searched around for another foe to kill until he noticed a human struggling underneath the corpse of one of his kin. Garkor grinned and trotted gleefully towards such an easy kill.

Gunter finally managed to get the corpse off of him, he took a deep breath of cold and fetid air and nearly gagged, he quickly noticed a beast man coming right for him, he looked around for his spear and found it nowhere, he lay their in wide eyed horror like a deer when caught in the sight of a hunter, his mind told him to move but he could not, he saw as the beast man lifted its gore smeared cleaver and roared a praise to a deity which hurt his ears to hear. He saw a quick of flash of light flash across the beast man's chest, a strange mixed smell of roasting goat and pork began to combine with the stench of the beast men and the smells of blood and loosed bowels from the battle. He saw another flash of light and the beast man's head toppled away from the body, its eyes wide with shock, he caught a brief glimpse of something white disappearing into the press of bodies and began to hear the screams of more beasts.

Gunter struggled to get himself up, he picked up the cleaver of the beast man that tried to kill him, he found it to be rather heavy and unwieldy, and was sickened by the sigils scratched onto its rusted sides. He tried to find the white figure and saw blazes of white fire swiping at the beast men and the smell of cooked meat began to grow stronger, the white figure moved with a blur of speed and as it's flame cut down more beast men, some of the creatures began to recognize this new threat and attempted to disengage from his comrades, only to find a spear to the back or to the side.

The White figure hurled its fire towards the largest of the beast men, an armored chieftain wielding twin massive curved swords was able to block the flame with both blades, at that moment there was the sharp clash of steel upon steel and the swords glowed with unholy symbols. Gunter was able to catch a glimpse at the white figure before it disengaged from the chieftain in a blur of movement, he saw a massive pale skinned warrior clad in silvery armor and a fur cloak of white wielding an axe that blazed with white fire.

The White Warrior gritted his teeth and clenched his great axe tightly; he swiftly readied himself into an offensive stance, he heard the sound of a trumpet from the humans calling to order the survivors, he ignored the humans and roared loudly like the lions of his homeland and charged the beast man chieftain which roared a challenge of its own and beat its chest with its free hands and charged towards him. He dashed swiftly to the Chieftain, he launched a feint by raising his axe high in attempt to chop for the chieftain's armored torso, the right sword was raised above its head in an attempt for a block while the left was thrust forwards, The Warrior spun to the side, the sword grazed his breastplate, its runes glowed fiercely as it fought against the chieftain's ensorcelled sword.

He quickly twisted his axe and swung it in a sideway arc, the Chieftain attempted to shift its right sword in an attempt to block the axe, but was not quick enough; the axe knocked the tip of the blade away gashing the side of the chieftain's fore head, the axe cleaved the skull of the chieftain from top of its jaw. The chieftain's body stood there for a moment, the flames from the axe had cauterized the wound, its head bifurcated and the beast men saw in horror as their chieftain remained there before toppling into the bloody ground.

The company of Imperial troops had used the time bought by the white warrior to regroup, Gunter was now amongst his comrades in a semblance of a phalanx, he used the cleaver to chop down three more beast men and took a few glancing strikes to his breastplate a spear had grazed his left thigh. He fought against the pain, adrenaline pumping and fought, when the beast men's chieftain fell, the white warrior quickly went back into the thick of the war band, slaughtering many of the mutants, the Imperials tried to kill as many beasts as they could without break formation wary of the new comer.

When the last of the beast men had either fled or been felled had a measure of silence fallen upon the skirmish site, the moans and cries of the wounded both men and beast mingled with the howls of wolves and sounds of other animals of the woods. The clouds now covered Morrslieb, giving them a sickly dark green glow, the white moon of Mannslieb now shone across the land covering the world in its silvery light, in the light of the moon, the white warrior stood like wraith, he was tall almost like a Kurgan, his armor perfectly reflected the moon's light, his skin pale, hair and cloak white as snow and piercing almond shaped ice blue eyes measured the Imperials as if he were sizing a choice cut of meat, his axe still blazing with ghostly fire.

Gunter and the rest of his company nervously eyed the newcomer, unsure if they should attack or try to speak

"Elf" he heard the mutter of one of the men behind him.

Gunter was unsure whether he should be in awe or if he should remain on his guard, he had never actually seen one of the fey folk in the past, he had heard tales of them of course but here stood one of the fabled creatures from across the ocean.

"You have little to fear from me" spoke the baritone and melodious voice the elf in a perfect but accented Reikspiel "I bare you all no harm unless provoked". As if to prove a point, the elf whispered something unintelligible and the ghostly fire of his axe extinguished.

The Imperials calmed slightly, each of the men knew that the fey folk of Ulthuan were friends and allies to the Empire, the captain of the patrol, a scar faced bear of a man in middling years of kislevite descent named Ulf strode towards the elf, the captain's armor was dented and smeared with blood, he sported a bloody cut across his right cheek, he removed his feathered helmet to reveal a shining bald plate with short salt and pepper hair growing around the crown. The captain gave a salute to the elf

"We thank you for the assistance mein herr" he said, the captain's tone was as if he were speaking to a noble.

The elf gave a simple nod of his head and replied

"Your gratitude is appreciated, but un-necessary" he said rather aloofly "I bare grim news of a gathering of the horned vermin, they are preparing one of their debased rituals and will be using several captive humans as offerings"

The Imperial troops began to worriedly whisper amongst themselves, most of the men have had their fair share of encounters with the minions of the dark gods; each man had witnessed the blasphemous rituals, sacrifices and sorcery of the ruinous powers. The captain silenced his men and turned back to the elf

"Where are they gathering?" he questioned "How many of the beasts are there?"

"Not far to the north" the elf spoke "if we move now we can quickly get there in less than half an hour, as to how many I believe there are between twenty to thirty"

The captains face hardened at the news, he had made quick survey of his men and noted that of the three dozen men, only twenty one survived, of those twenty one, only ten with himself amongst that number were still in proper shape to fight, the rest were wounded to various degrees with four men he was sure would not make it through the night even with the aid of physician, the closest Reikland garrison was at least a four hours march. He was also worried about any other threats in the forest, be it beast men, greens skins or brigands. He gave a weary sigh and turned his attention back to the elf who stood there as still as a statue

"I am sorry" he said rather grudgingly "but we don't have the numbers to deal with them and more importantly, this is the border to Middenland" he continued

The elf remained silent but raised a questioning eye brow "So?"

The captain cleared his throat and continued "We are soldier of Reikland, and to enter the province of Middenland without permission could be seen as an act of war. At best we will just be hanged for trespassing, at worst we could start a civil war" there were words of agreement from the rest of the men one man even said how if it is happening in Middenland, it is Middenland's problem

The elf gave a cold and disdainful look at the Imperials

"It seems I overestimated the so called Sons of Sigmar" he quickly turned away and began walking back into the forest he gave a venomous look to the Imperials "If you find your dignity I will leave a trail to follow". With those last words he soon vanished into the darkness.

Gunter bristled in anger at the elf, how dare that pointy eared freak judge them in their own land, and think he knew better. But still it nagged at him, if the mutants were planning on sacrificing several peasants, he knew that it would neither be quick nor it would be painless for the buggers. He noticed some of the men around him seemed to feel a bit conflicted as well, while others didn't seem to care, he looked to the captain who clenched his fists and was deep in thought still facing where the elf was, after a moment of silence, the captain turned to face his men.

"Gather the wounded, let's head back" he said sharply. "We will inform the commander and do this by the book"

The Imperials acknowledged the order; they did the best they could to tend to the wounded, Gunter found his spear lodged still lodged into a dead beast man, its shaft broken, he gladly threw away the filthy blade and swore to get his hands blessed by a priest. As the Imperials readied to leave, Gunter couldn't help but wince as his legs moved, his wounds had been crudely bandaged but his blood began to soak the cloth. The seeds of regret were planted on that day, it was not only in Gunter but also to many of the surviving men and worse still to the Captain, in the years that would follow that regret would blossom into nightmares and guilt that would plague many of them in their sleep.

* * *

Khorieus reached his hands into the roots of a tree, centuries of experience had taught him how to maneuver in the darkness of the wilds, the ancient plant had grown over a large stone and its roots cascaded down into the damp earth. He had left his bow and arrows as well as a crude leather bag underneath it; he spent a moment to marvel at the elegant white wood bow of Ellyrian design before equipping the ranged weapon. In the weeks since he had arrived on Elthin Arvan, he had wasted no time in beginning his hunt; he had already slain many beast men, green skins, mutants, and brigands first around the marsh lands of Marienburg and later in the forests of the Empire. His opinion on humanity began to become rather low, seeing the greed, corruption and ignorance everywhere.

He thought about his own people and was reminded of the intrigues and competitiveness the peoples of kingdoms like Averlorn or Lothern would show, he quickly shook away such thought and berated himself for even thinking to compare the elves to barbarians. After making sure his equipment was secure, he bolted off into the forest, hoping that the ritual the beast men had not yet begun.

He honestly had little care about whether he could save the humans or not, though he did feel that it might be appropriate at the least to inform the Imperials and see if they would bother trying to save their own kin, the only reason why he kept going was the promise of battle.

In the centuries of bitter experience he had with the servants of the dark gods or the hated druchii, he had learned a thing or two about the arcane; he knew that the witch moon had an affect on the Winds of Magic and to those who practiced the dark arts, certain rituals could cause the might of a warlock to increase manifold, or be capable of summoning dark things from the beyond.

True to his word to the humans he left a trail, one of bloody organs in various states of rot from some of his previous victims; he had kept it all in the leather bag he had taken from a band of goblins. He left a long trail of intestines from an orc here, he left a beast man's glowing green heart there, and he placed the spidery limb of a once human mutant who had way too many arms pointing where to go. He doubted the humans would follow him but for the sake of keeping his word, he did.

As he closed in on the location of the gathering, his nose was assailed by the smell of dung and the filth of the beast men; he heard the drums and chanting of the beasts. A shiver passed through him giving him gooseflesh, he could feel the build up of dark magic, he soon saw the glow of flames, he crouched low and stuck to the shadows under the trees; he took an arrow from his quiver and silently crept forwards despite his full suite of armor.

His eyes spotted a massive mound of skulls propped around a wooden totem carved with dark runes in front an ancient gibbet tree with gnarled branches and various rotted corpses and skeletons hanging from it or were nailed to the tree; a great fire was blazing in front of the totem casting a hellish light to the area. He was a bit relieved to see that the skull were mostly old bones beneath but closer to the top there were many fresh skulls which at the least belonged to animals, the fresh skulls of bears, wolves, deer with the horns still attached, cows, birds and other creatures were there.

He saw a capering old beast man shaman dressed in rags shouting praises to the totem, it held up a series of bones tied together to from a crude version of the eight pointed star. There were a number of fresh corpses around the gathering, Khorieus recognized a few of the dead as some the beast men that fled from the ambush and assumed that the herd was not pleased with failure.

A group of the beasts were chanting the names of two of their kin in particular an axe wielding Minotaur and a sword wielding furry bodied lizard headed creature that almost resembled the large guardian lizards of distant Lustria. Khorieus guessed that perhaps these two were now trying to fill the power vacuum left at the death of their chieftain, and these two were likely the strongest in the herd.

He continued his survey and saw eight crude cages in which the human captives were held, several haggard looking humans, of both genders, and all ages were huddled together in the cold as well as the fear of the monsters, and the humans were guarded by six mutated hounds which were tethered to trees. Khorieus counted the number of beast men and confirmed there were thirty two of them; he readied his aim with his bow the magic upon it began to work as the arrow began mist and was covered in rime, he whispered a prayer to Kurnous and Khaine and loosed. The arrow flew straight and true, it hit the bray shaman in throat, the beast stood there, gurgling blood, for a moment longer it stood there before falling down, Khorieus wasted no time in preparing another arrow, his next struck a hound between its three human like eyes while the shaman struggled for breath, the third arrow hit another hound in the side of its head, knocking the beast towards a cage which created a series of surprised shrieks from the humans.

Khorieus fired two more arrows in rapid succession to the hounds, each of which he was confident were lethal shots, the remaining two hounds began barking at his direction and lopped off towards the elf, he saw a beast man pointing at his direction with a feathered arm, the minotaur began roaring orders at its kin but what interrupted by the lizard thing which began hissing at the bull. The two beasts seemed to be arguing for a moment and soon went back to their duel eager to take control of the herd, Khorieus didn't have time to stay and watch, and he quickly ran back into the shadows of the forest while the hounds gave chase.

Adrenaline began to pump through his body again as the two hounds gave chase, like all elves, Khorieus was fast and strong, hardly weighed down by his armor, but even he could not outrun such mutants. He leapt over a fallen tree and gracefully maneuvered through the brush of the forest, his bow he stowed away upon his back, his axe was now held in both hands, its runes began glowing like the volcanoes of the realm of Caledor, he whispered for his weapon to calm itself and the heat remained but did not burst inferno, for now. He stopped to strain his ears, listening to the barks and sniffing the smell of the hounds to gauge their distance as well as those of their masters, he tightly clenched his hands around the shaft of his weapon and moved on to engage the hounds.

The first hound that got to Khorieus leapt towards him, aiming a razor sharp beak filled with cat like teeth towards his throat. He swung his axe sideways, the hound attempted to shift its momentum to avoid the axe, but with a quick twist of his wrists, the top of the flat of his axe slapped into the side of the hound with a brief hiss of heat, knocking the beast off course and it landed in the brush beside the elf.

The beast yapped in pain as the intense heat of the axe caused a nasty burn on its side, the axe blade left a scorched marked as if it were branded, Khorieus quickly thrust his axe like a spear, the blunt head of the weapon struck the second hound squarely on its head creating a loud crack. The hound gave a loud yelp from a leech like mouth and three other orifices around its head, while the beast was concussed, Khorieus raised his right foot over the hound's head and stomped down with all of his might into the back where its neck should be, he heard a satisfying crack and the hound went limp.

He quickly spun around towards the first hound, he axe raised defensively, it's haft was positioned properly so that the hound's beak clasped around his weapon's handle, it growled angrily at the elf, it slavered and drooled all over his armor, its claws which were like those of a hunting cat scratched against his armor. The hound's red eyes shaped like those of a bird glared angrily at him, as it continued its assault, it tried to push its beaked jaws closer to Khorieus face, the elf used his strength to push it away but for only a bit, after a brief moment, he shifted his arms to his left side and gave up resistance, the hound went down hard into the ground from its own effort, the elf quickly grabbed his hunting knife and jammed it into the hound's eye before it recovered, it whimpered in pain before slumping down with the edge of the blade puncturing its brain.

Khorieus picked up his axe, now in both hands, he had removed his knife from the hound and began to search for the beast men, he leapt to the side, barely dodging a spear that would have caught him squarely in the chest and thudding into the corpse of the second hound. He heard the braying of the beast men on his trail, he quickly grabbed the shaft of the spear with his right hand, axe now on his left and inspected the weapon, although crude and disgusting to him, he was confident it was serviceable, he ran off holding both his axe and the spear, towards the glow of the torches held by herd.

His breath was held, he raised his right hand with the spear in hand, and with a great exhale of mist into the cold air he threw the spear. The projectile struck down an ungor, "thirty" muttered the elf. He saw the herd's new chieftain the lizard headed one who held aloft a curved sword reminiscent of the ones used by the men of Araby, the serpent was bleeding green from a few deep looking wounds but still seemed relatively healthy, the Minotaur was missing Khorieus corrected himself "twenty nine", he held his axe in both hands and roared a challenge to the Beast men, he rushed forwards with savage joy.

The first beast man Khorieus struck down was an overeager gor wielding a massive stone maul; it raised its hammer to smash the elf's head and was rewarded with its legs severed. Khorieus parried the spear of another beast man before driving his axe into the side of its neck, nearly severing it; he dodged the swipe of another beast man before cutting off its arms. Khorieus masterfully dodged, blocked, parried and killed with centuries of bloody experience, in a way he had become almost like his foes, a savage blood thirsty thing intent only on death and slaughter.

His berserk rage was interrupted by the strike of a rusty Imperial steel headed mace against his back, the runes of his armor provided protection but he knew enough that there would be a nasty bruise there if he survived the night, cursing himself for getting careless, Khorieus leapt back from a cleaving strike of the lizard headed one's sword. The new chieftain ordered its kin to press the attack, some of the beast men now began attempting to flank the elf, Khorieus began sweeping his axe in wide arcs, and he attempted to emulate some of the aggressively defensive maneuvers the Sword Master of Hoeth would employ, keeping the beast men away.

The elf then leapt back away from the foes and began to run, he heard the angry bleating of the beast men as they tried to pursue him, he quickly veered to his right from an oak tree and continued his sprint, the beast men continued their pursuit, the fastest of them going on ahead of the rest of the herd. As he ran, he heard the heavy rustling of leaves from the brush near him; he took a quick glance and saw a foe coming at him with great speed.

Bursting out of the brush, a lithe black and brown furred beast woman with many lupine features and too many breasts, running upon all fours, mouth slavering with drool, she leapt towards Khorieus with twin daggers of bone in her clawed hands, the elf spun along with his axe following, it connected and struck the mutant's head from the right, cleaving the furry head in twain.

The beast man behind the wolf woman, a dual wielding grey furred feline featured thing wielding an axe and a sword came at the elf. It hurled its axe at him, Khorieus was struck on the front of the left Pauldron, the axed clanged off the armor staggering him, and the impact was enough for him to grunt in pain. The cat thing was quickly upon him, wielding its remaining weapon with surprising speed, it thrust its blade forward to the elf's neck, Khorieus recovered in time to thrust forward with his right hand opened.

His hand wrapped around the blade, the ithilmar gauntlets created several screeching sparks as runes glowed in protection, he pulled the cat thing towards him, and its eyes went wide with surprise at the unexpected movement before its snout crashed against a plated elbow. Khorieus let go of the sword and shoved the creature forward dazed and staggering, with a clinical sweep of his axe, the cat thing went down with its throat slashed open, its head flopped back dangling by a small strip of charred meat.

The elf grinned at the sight before running off again; he wanted eliminate them a few at a time, killing the faster ones first and leaving the slower ones for later. He continued this tactic for a while, his count of the remaining beast men were now down fifteen. Some of the creatures began losing heart for the fight and three attempted to run off, two were slain by the lizard headed one' who began to angrily hiss at the rest of the herd, the beast men reluctantly followed their leader intent on killing the elf.

* * *

Khorieus, had re-equipped his bow and began to shoot at and run from the beast men. The Ellyrian cavalry bow was excellent for this type of skirmish tactic… albeit more ideal for use upon horse back; although Khorieus improvised using a few things from the Nagarthyians, two beasts were slain by lethal shots and the others falling victim to the intense cold of his bow's enchantments, not wanting to waste more arrows, Khorieus stowed his bow and brought up his axe, he charged back into the herd intent on finishing this.

A massive bear headed creature fell, its head split in half from top to bottom, ten counted Khorieus. He chopped to his right and struck a boar featured beast man below the left arm pit, it squealed as it burned from the white fire, nine. He cut the shaft off a rusted trident and hacked a fish like beast man with a blue cyclopean eye; its lower body was separated from the upper, eight Khorieus counted. The remaining beast men now stood wary of Khorieus, many trembling with fear at the ghostly monster that slew most of their herd.

His heart pounding, and blood rushing with murder-lust, Khorieus gave a loud roar of challenge to the remaining beast men, many turned and fled, leaving only three, the lizard headed chieftain, a cudgel wielding grotesque thing with melted wax like flesh with a vaguely human shape and another burly goat headed beast but with multiple eyes like that of a spider and wielding a glaive. The three beast men roared in unison at Khorieus and charged intent as well to finish this fight.

With great speed he charged the goat man first and split its stomach open, seared entrails spilled out of its belly, the waxy fleshed one was slow but tough, the Chracian's axe struck into it's neck searing flesh and fat creating a smell of cooked rotten meat. It yelped in pain, but still held its ground and was able to strike the elf upon the side of his head, agony instantly spread across his skull, stars flashed across Khorieus' eyes, the blow was enough to nearly knock him out, through sheer effort of will he remained conscious, he let go of his burning axe which remained stuck, smoking into the body of the waxy thing, in time to dodge a swipe from the sword of the chieftain, one aimed for the elf's neck.

Leaping away from the two in a roll, Khorieus grabbed his hunting knife and held it out in a reverse grip with the blade pointing downwards, the waxy thing screamed in agony as the fires continued to blaze, charring and fusing mutated flesh, as it tried to pull the weapon out, now it was just Khorieus and the chieftain. The two combatants eyed each other balefully; the elf had taken couple of hits, although most were absorbed and blunted by his armor he felt very sore at a number of parts on his body, the chieftain on the other hand was still standing strong, its wounds from the duel were staunched, its tongue flicked in and out of its mouth. The two warriors circled each other for a few seconds before charging at each other.

The chieftain's thrust was surprisingly swift, it struck forward, aiming for the elf's face, Khorieus barely dodged it and the edge of the blade struck against the left side of his helmet, screeching the metal, Khorieus slashed his knife, aiming for the scaled throat, his blade connected but sparked and slid away as if he had struck against steel. He cursed knowing that his knife would be no use and he would need his axe, he dodged another swipe aimed for the thin less armored area where his fauld met his breastplate, an idea came up in the Chracian's head and he charged directly at the chieftain.

The beast man launched another quick thrust of its sword at Khorieus exposed face, the elf quickly side stepped to his left, angling his body diagonally, raising both arms, he swiftly brought his left arm down onto his waist, catching the flat of the sword and pinning it to his torso and drove up into the chain links protecting his armpit, he quickly thrust the dagger directly into the lizard head's right eye. The creatures shrieked in a sound that seemed almost too much like that of normal human, the blade sunk deep as gore and optical fluids sprayed onto the elf, Khorieus kept his grip, trying to push the blade deeper and twisting it when he could, after a few more moments of struggling and the shrieking turning into a whimper, the beast man went limp. Khorieus let go of the corpse, his armor and what exposed parts of his flesh were now smeared in the gore of his foes, he roared in savage triumph of his victory.

* * *

He took a moment to catch his breath, and survey the area, the remaining beast men had fled and the death of their second chieftain would for a time at least make sure they left the elf alone, Khorieus took a few leaves from a tree to wipe away the blood upon his dagger before sheathing it, he got his axe and went about the forest to retrieve what arrows he could. He wondered if he should go and help the captives first but decided to do that later as they were unlikely to be going anywhere soon, after several minutes of searching he was satisfied that he had retrieved everything he could he went back to the beast men's ritual site to free the captive humans.

Khorieus looked up at the sky and saw the green moon was out again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood and felt a shift in the Winds. Something was not right, he felt dark magic at work, he quickened his pace towards the site, as he ran he suddenly heard screams, they were a blood curdling screams that pierced into his very soul, Khorieus now began to sprint with renewed vigor. At the site he came upon a scene that sickened him to the core.

Standing tall and strong was the Bray Shaman, its back was to the totem, its hands holding the eight pointed star sigil and it shouted a foul incantation in the Dark Tongue, the spasming bodies of the beasts, their mouths opened wide as if they were silently screaming in either agony or ecstasy.

A horrific buzzing sound could be heard, Khorieus looked closely and saw a massive black swarm of insects within the cages, the insects quickly flew out of cages and into the darkness of the forest leaving mounds of human bodies each now looking and smelling like corpses that have been left to rot for weeks without scavengers to pick at it. At a closer look the shaman's throat at where Khorieus' arrow had pierced was now covered in a massive black pustule, as its chant continued a creeping feeling of nausea began to overcome the elf.

He had seen such sorcery in past and never missed the irony of how the minions of chaos could actually be 'healed' by pestilence and disease of the plague god, fortunately Khorieus had the greatest cure for such blight, fire. Whispering the commanding word, his axe blazes brightly and the elf gave a wordless charge, his fiery axe held high, the shaman looked to the elf and swiftly shouted a new incantation, it swung the sigil at the elf and from it a conflagration of daemon fire burst forth.

Khorieus braced himself for the assault and was struck by the flame, he felt the intense blistering heat burning his exposed flesh and heating his armor like a cooking pot, his two rings glowed with arcane light, doing their best to protect him from the sorcerous attack. His teeth were tightly clenched and he suppressed a roar of agony, he saw the horrific faces of many daemons within the flames, cavorting and cackling, his stride was slowed for only a fraction but not enough for the shaman, soon Khorieus was upon the shaman and with a great sweep of his axe he chopped the shaman into two from right shoulder to left waist.

Red steam emerged from the rent body of the shaman; the smell of burnt meat filled his nostrils. When the corpse fell, Khorieus stood there silent like a statue, savoring his victory. His gaze fell upon the cages, his face became grim and felt that his victory was somewhat tarnished, he shook his head at the sight remembering all too well the countless horrors he had seen heaped upon the victims of the ruinous powers.

He silently went to the cages, inspecting the design; he became satisfied at the crudeness and began hacking them apart, he piled the wood upon the bodies, using his axe like a torch he went about creating make shift pyres for the victims. When he had finished, he spent a moment to watch the blaze in silence, his reverie though would be broken by a loud roar from the forest, it was a chilling otherworldly scream, "daemon" he spat clenching his axe tightly. So that is what the beast men were doing he thought, a ritual of summoning, he rolled his shoulders and neck, working out the kinks, he muttered a prayer to Kurnous and knew that a new hunt has begun.

He sprinted off into the forest, with axe in his right hand disappearing into the shadowed boughs. The sky above began to slightly brighten as the moons started to set into the horizon, when dawn came, the sights of smoke and fire across the western forests of the Empire could be seen in the distance, the drums and chants of the beasts echoed across the wilds, the tribes were gathering preparing for war, and in the shadows of a glade, a dark thing of ancient pestilence and evil roamed the land, searching for a temporary vessel to walk the world and spread its gifts to all that lived.


	2. Lions and Wolves

Amidst a small clearing in the forest stood a lonely hill, upon the hill stood the stump of a once ancient oak tree, for generations men had come here to this place of solitude with grim purpose. The rough surface of the stump was stained with old blood; it was not a place of sacrifice for the servants of the Ruinous Powers, but a place where pious folk would be rid of a great shame. On this day the old tradition was continued.

Slowly striding into the clearing was a man whose face was mostly concealed by the hood of a cloak, he wore the trappings of a simple woodsman with his axe tied to his back. In the man's arms was a wrapped bundle of cloth, the man stopped for moment, doubt clouding his thoughts, he knew that if what he held became known, it would attract unwanted attention, the kind that could see his family endangered.

With a heavy heart he strode up the hill, today was supposed to be a happy day, his wife had given birth mere hours ago to a son and both she and child survived fit and hale. The family had wept tears of joy but was soon was replaced by shock and horror, they saw how their newborn's tongue was thin and forked like that of a serpent, the man noticed on the back of the child the thick tufts of hair which were like those of a hound. Worst of all was when he tried to gently pry open his son's eyes after noticing something odd he saw the twin pupils in each.

Mutant, his firstborn son was a mutant. A corrupted thing of darkness, the man's older brother became silent, his wife's mother began weeping, and his daughter who was only eight summers was confused and had no idea the gravity of their situation. They had argued on what had to be done, the man and his wife hoped that perhaps they could hide the child, the brother who had traveled and seen more of the world than any of them knew better though. If it became known that a mutant was born from their family, they would receive a visit from the witch hunters.

With grief heavy in his heart the man placed the child upon the stump. He shakily whispered a prayer of forgiveness to the gods; reaching for his axe he unclasped the tool of his trade. With shaky arms he raised the blade high tears ready to burst from his eyes, he looked down at the child and saw it look back at him, he could see the twin colors in both its eyes, the blue of his wife's and his own green. The man tried to bring the axe down but could not do it, he could not bear to murder his own child, tears burst from his eyes and he went down to his knees with his axe laid to his right.

For several minutes the man knelt there unable to bring himself to up, eventually he arose and began walking down the hill and making his way home. He looked back one last time to his son and clenched his axe tightly, soon the man left with shame heavy in his heart.

As time passed the child would eventually begin to cry, it first sounded like the wailing of a normal healthy child but soon it turned into something terrible, something that no human should be able to make, a sound that chilled the bone. Under the shadows of the canopies came another of the damned, a horrible parody of man and beast known to the civilized folk as an ungor, the mutant watched and listened intently at the wailing of the child, it smelled the presence of one of its kind and decided to take it back to its tribe.

Cresting the hill with its cloven hooves, the ungor soon stood over the babe looking into its blessed features. As the ungor raised its hirsute arms to pick up the child, the beastman suddenly jerked to its right, confusion came into its bestial mind as it hit the ground and began to slowly roll down, the ungor felt cold, so very cold around its throat and it tried to breath but it could not. Raising its clawed hands to its throat it discovered in horror that there was an arrow sticking out from the left side to the right, its vision began to darken and the ungor could hear only the wailing of the child and the buzzing sound of something terrible.

* * *

Emerging from the shadows Khorieus came, in his hands he held a bow and arrow both readied in the event of a new threat, scanning the forest with his keen eyes he warily crested up the hill. At the top he saw the swathed bundles of cloth containing the pale flesh of a new born human child, at first the elf grew disgusted thinking that some humans had just left their own child in the forest but then he saw its mutations. His disgust was turned into contempt as whoever put the child there did not have the strength to finish the deed, raising his right boot over the mutated infant; he crushed its small head which exploded like an overripe melon.

When the deed was done the elf pulled out the arrow from the other mutant, testing its strength he was confident that it was still serviceable, using a few leaves he had picked he wiped the blood away from arrow head knowing that he will need every one. For two weeks he had hunted the daemon of the plague god, it had habit of jumping bodies from one body to another, first it was a beast shaman, then a human sorcerer and then there were others, but he knew that its power was weakening. Daemons required a host, a physical anchor to stay in the world lest they be banished back into the Outer Darkness, its trail had been rather easy to find, his people had a strong sensitivity to the Winds of Magic and they could sense the changes and disturbances caused by daemons.

Unfortunately, as the daemon's power weakened so did its trail become harder to find, leaving the clearing, he passed through the forests of the lands the humans called Middenland with great speed; now he could barely see the fetid trail upon the Winds and could only followed its general direction north. In the forest of this land he had encountered more than his fair share of foes, from beast men to greenskins, mutants and human outlaws, none had overcome the Chracian. After traveling north for three hours after the clearing he picked up the familiar scent of beastmen, whispering a prayer to Kurnous he quietly crept forwards intent on finding his new prey.

The first beastmen he sighted were a trio of Ungors wielding crude bows. The ugly stinking hirsute creatures were likely a hunting party searching for meat for the rest of their kin, readying an arrow and placing it upon the string of his bow, Khorieus watched as a thin sheet of ice began to cover the arrow head. Gently pulling back his arm and drawing the string, the elf sighted upon his first target and letting loose, he watched the projectile fly towards its target the beastman at the front fell first, the icy arrow hitting it in the torso and puncturing its lungs, filling it with frost. The second beastman fell half a second later with an arrow to the head, the third beastman Khorieus left alive, the creature began bleating in terror and ran off.

Quickly on the move, Khorieus passed by the corpses of the two slain beastmen and retrieved his arrows. The third beastmen in its terror left a trail that easy for the elf to follow, the thrill of the hunt filled the elf as he pursued it, for too long in Ulthuan he had hunted for wild animals and mutated beasts. He had tried hunting goblins in Yvresse after the siege of Grom the Paunch, but had quickly bored of it, he had hunted Druchii or Norscan raiding parties every now and then but these occurred not as often as he would have hoped.

Following the beastman's trail, Khorieus passed through a series of fetishes, totems and disgusting piles of old dung, markers of a beast tribe's territory. His hunt lead him to a series of tents made from bone and hide with cooking fires scattered here and there, a war camp he had found. Observing from trees the Chracian noticed there were few more of the beasts compared to the tribe he had fought a few weeks earlier and these ones were not busy squabbling amongst each other.

Among the many creatures he spotted the scout he allowed to leave, it was prostrating itself to a large chieftain. Raising his bow and readying another arrow, Khorieus began to release another volley. The first among the camp to die were three sentries standing guard, then a pair of beastwomen busily tending to a fire with a dead human roasting upon it, and the last was the scout. Roars of alarms began to sound across the camp with many of the creatures emerging from the tents, Khorieus fired more and more arrows, sending the mutants to a cold doom, and it was not long before the creatures spotted the elf and began charging at him.

Stowing away his bow and bringing out his axe, he whispered to his weapon and its runes glowed in anticipation. The axe-blade soon burst into white fire, in a way it mimicked the rage within the elf, feeling the murder-lust build up inside him, Khorieus charged the beastmen with a prayer to Khaine upon his lips. The first beastman among the camp he killed was another ungor, its small furry head was split in half by his axe from lower to upper jaw with the upper part of the head flying passed him, the second was a goat headed gor which roared the blood god's name and was rewarded with the elf's axe severing its neck from the shoulders.

With adrenaline pumping through his body, Khorieus roared in savage joy as the beastman were fully beginning to commit; he made sure to stay at the edge of the group and not try to push in. Often he would purposefully have to take several steps back or even run, he knew it would be a deadly mistake to let the creature surround him so he tried to fight them a few at a time. He killed and killed, felling the beasts with single powerful strikes which cauterized wounds and left terrible burns. Amidst the roar of the beastmen was one greater than all, a lull came across the battle and many of the creatures disengaged from the elf, breathing heavily with a grim look upon his face, the Chracian saw the beastmen part ways for their leader, about time Khorieus thought.

Striding forwards upon its strong cloven hooves, the Chieftain was as tall as the elf and wide like a Kurgan, its fur was black as midnight and its horns were shaped like those of an elk, clad in heavy armor where the elf could not tell if there was dried blood or rust, skulls and dried severed heads dangled from its body. In its meaty hands it wielded a pair of double bladed axes that looked to be orcish in origin with runes of the blood god emblazoned upon it, the chieftain pointed one of its weapons at the elf and roared in challenge. Nodding towards the chieftain Khorieus roared his defiance as well; the beastmen began making space for the two warriors who began to circle each other.

Khorieus eyed the chieftain grimly trying to gauge the beast's strengths and weaknesses, from his experience as a warrior, only a fool would think every foe is the same and every foe is equal in skill. The chieftain began using its axes to carve into its own flesh, bringing a measure of the blood god's rage into itself. In silence the two warriors eyed each other, the elf knew that one thing most of the blood god's minions lacked was patience, in the end this leader proved no different than most. With a loud roar of berserk fury the chieftain charged towards the Chracian, its axes raised high in a parody of a welcoming embrace.

Khorieus set himself in a defensive stance; the chieftain hurled its axes down in twin arcs, the elf swiftly raised his axe upwards to block. The lower corners of the cheiftain's axes were caught upon the shaft of the elf's weapon, with a swift thrust of his right knee the elf struck the chieftain's armored belly. Pain shot through the elf's knee as he struck, although blunted by the enchantments of his armor he was slightly satisfied that the chieftain grunted in pain as well, stepped back a bit winded by the attack and earning barks of anger from the crowd.

Attempting to take advantage of the situation, Khorieus swung his axe from his right aiming for the chieftain's left hip, the chieftain recovered in time to bring its left axe down to block the elf's weapon, with a last moment shift of directions Khorieus changed the target of his axe and the fiery blade severed the chieftains left hand from below the wrist. Roaring in agony and rage while its severed hand still clenched its weapon, the crowd of beastmen groaned in disbelief, moving back into a defensive stance, the elf waited for the chieftain's next move. The Chieftain glared in rage at the elf, the blood god's fury filling its red eyes, blocking out the pain, with a roar of hatred and rage that would have terrorized a lesser foe, it charged like an enraged bull towards the elf with it is remaining axe held low with its head pointing to the ground.

Roaring a challenge of his own, Khorieus charged the chieftain. As the two warriors closed in the elf weaved to the right of the chieftain, the beastman swung his axe at the elf who was grazed in the belly by the axe. The runes upon the Chracian's armor fought against the daemonic enchantments upon the chief's axe and the blade bit into the ithilmar with only a light scratch upon the surface. Khorieus held his axe high, accepting the strike and trusting in the strength of his armor, with a swift sweep he crashed the blazing blade of the axe into the chieftain's spine and melting through the armor.

Leaving his axe in the Chieftain's back, Khorieus watched the remaining beasts intently, his right hand now over his knife's handle. Glancing back, he noticed the chieftain was now trying to reach for the elf's axe which was lodged into its spine behind the chest and still blazing with arcane fire. The beasts watched the elf with a mix of fear and rage, many became emboldened by his lack of an axe. One opportunistic ungor burst from the crowd and hurled a spear at the elf, Khorieus barely managed to dodge it and the weapon struck the chieftain at the small of its back. Quickly reaching for his axe with both hands, the elf pulled the weapon out and kicked the chieftain into the earth; he spun to his right barely avoiding a charging gor and severed its unprotected legs from behind the knees, glaring at the remaining tribe with murder-lust in his eyes Khorieus roared in fury.

* * *

The sun shone through the canopy of the forest, the camp was silent now, save for the groans of the dying and the crackling of flames. Khorieus stood there embracing the light with a beatific look upon his face, he felt comforting warmth as his amulet which bore runes of the goddess Isha work its magic to heal his body. His armor was smeared in gore for he whispered for his axe to cease its flames, the ground was littered with many bodies, some were burnt horribly, others were bleeding from gaping wounds, he enjoyed the smell of spilled blood, ruptured entrails and burnt flesh, he had spared nothing in his fury, not even their females and their young; the only ones who survived were the ones with enough sense to flee.

Hearing the howl of a wolf Khorieus opened his eyes and looked to the direction where he heard the sound. He began following the direction as he heard the howl again, for days he had heard the howls and in the distance he would see the form of a wolf with its fur as white as snow or one with fur as black as night. The sound led him to the edge of the camp where a pair of wolves sat patiently, the elf then began to speak in an arcane tongue known only to the hunters of Ulthuan.

"I see you" he said threateningly hoping the wolves of Elthin Arvan would understand as much as their kin in Ulthuan. The two creatures raised their ears up in alarm and studied the elf intently. Khorieus continued "I see you follow me, many moons, I am not easy prey", the white wolf barked twice at the elf and stood up it was quickly followed by its kin and the two wolves ran off. The elf sprinted after the wolves, hearing their barks and following their scents, he continued to run for several minutes barely even tiring, the elf noticed a change in the Winds and began to feel an unnatural chill in the air.

Following the wolves whose tracked disappeared at another clearing, he saw several moss covered stones arranged in a circle, at a closer look the stones were daubed in ancient and faded paintings depicting wolves and humans fighting beastmen. He saw no signs of the wolves, but he felt something in the circle of stones, there was magic here, old magic, similar to what he felt when he visiting the secret shrines of Kurnous in the wilds of Ulthuan. At the center of the circle stood a large cauldron like object carved from stone and filled with shimmering water, propping his axe by the stone cauldron and removing his left gauntlet he placed his uncovered hand into the pool. Khorieus hissed in surprise and pulled his hand out as the water was as cold as if it were still winter and yet there was no ice forming upon it.

His keen senses picked up a series of footsteps quite a distance from behind, swiftly turning back with both hands upon his axe he saw a single being standing with the wolves flanking his sides. There stood a fierce looking warrior; a broad shouldered human male was clad in shining plate armor of human craft and the cloak of a white wolf upon his back, the human's face was concealed by a wolf skull, but the elf could see a chain coif reaching up, in the human's hands was a large two handed hammer and around the human was a cold mist of ice.

With his peripheral vision, Khorieus noticed his rings were now glowing, the cold he felt intensified. This cold had none of the wrongness in the air when fuelled by _Dhar_; it was more pure elemental and primal thing, and there was also something about the cold something that felt as if it were piercing into his very soul. Glaring at the warrior with defiant eyes daring the human to try something, he whispered to his axe which blazed with white fire.

The two warriors stood there, for several minutes neither budging nor moving. Khorieus attempted to speak but his voice was drowned out by sudden strong winds, he could see hoarfrost falling from the sky, and so he stood there watching and waiting while shifting into a defensive stance. Eventually the human raised his hammer high with his right hand, the human then thrust the shaft down into the ground and the cold suddenly began to lessen.

Little by little the winds died down and the hoarfrost began to stop falling. The human finally spoke to the elf in a deep and commanding tone

"You have been judged worthy in Ulric's eyes, elf"

Khorieus knew the name among the human gods; Ulric supposedly was a fierce deity whose spheres encompassed wolves, winter and battle. He had once fought alongside the wolf knights of that god during the Great War, and had considered the so called White Wolves to be quite adequate warriors… for humans; this particular human must be some sort of chosen champion or a warrior priest of the wolf god. Khorieus quickly replied

"and what exactly has your god judged me off?"

The human reached for something behind him and threw it at the elf. In mid air he saw it was the head of a gor which rolled upon the grassy floor and came to rest in front of the elf's boots, Khorieus looked to the human and defiantly said "I have no need of a human god to tell me what I can or cannot slay"

The human gave a mirthless chuckle and replied

"no you do not but I know what you hunt and the Lord of Winter believes you capable of stopping it"

At the human's words his interest was piqued "Oh? And why is that?" he said in a tone with both curiosity and a bit of hostility

"Because you are marked, elf" said the human in a grim tone "Marked by hands, of blood and fire"

Khorieus understood what the human meant; he already knew of Khaine's grip upon him, it was the reason why he sought battle and why it was one of the few things brought him a measure of solace and if the bloody handed god had some sort of plan for the elf then so be it, as long as he could find something to vent his fury against. Giving a soft grunt the elf then said "If you know of the daemon I seek then point to me where it is or stay out of my way, human"

The human did not respond visibly to the elf then said

"The daemon seeks refuge amongst a gathering of cultists and beasts, if they succeed then it shall bring death and ruin to Middenland"

Personally Khorieus had little care if some pox began decimating the Imperials; it would serve the barbarians right for their unhygienic habits in running a city. But he supposed if it was a chance to drive a dagger in the plots of the Dark Gods then he would be a satisfied elf. The two warriors came into an accord, after placing back his gauntlet he sprinted off back into the woods with the human, both guided by the twin wolves and the faint stench of rot in the Winds.

For three days straight the two ran, stopping only to drink, to eat or other mundane bodily needs. The forest was surprisingly devoid of sentient life, the only signs of life the two had found were the grisly remains of humans, untainted animals, other beastmen and greenskins. They had found old campsites and fetishes left here and there and, the human explained the current situation to the elf, that the beast tribes were marching to war and already the armies of Middenland, Reikland, Nordland and Hochland were battling the vanguards of the chaotic horde, of course if a powerful daemon were summoned then things would become worse for the Empire.

On the third night the two warriors stopped to rest, they found shelter in a cave hidden by foliage. The passage itself was large enough for troll to pass through and its spacious interior led to a large dome like space where a large pyre was lit and surrounding it were several hard faced humans clad in variety of armor, some wearing chain or scale armor, one wearing plates but most in leather hauberks. The humans all wore wolf skin cloaks and carried axes or hammers, the human that accompanied Khorieus greeted the men in Riekspiel and told them to prepare for battle, and the humans greeted this with wolf like howls of approval and began tending to their weapons.

The cave itself was daubed with painting depicting bloody hands which were then followed by humans and wolves with faces that seemed to the elf's eyes as of being comically angry. That night the warriors sat by a fire, all lost in private thoughts or prayers; the wolves appeared again and settle by the warmth of the flames as well, Khorieus gently stroked the back of white wolf which curled up by the elf. As weariness and sleep began to find their way to the warriors, Khorieus found his sleep filled with memories of the past.

When dawn came the warriors doused the flames and when off again into the wilds. They had eaten and drunk on the move and eventually after four hours of running they came to their destination, Khorieus had felt a shiver of goose flesh across his body as he felt a strong magical presence in the area, one of strong malignance and power. The source of it would be found upon a slab of stone etched with runes of chaos and filled with its dark energy, the stone itself was surrounded by a charnel scene of rotted organs and body parts, around the stone and its offerings were the capering forms beastmen and other mutants with a circle of robed humans closest to the stone.

Of course the mystical feeling of sickness was quickly followed by the stench which made Khorieus want to vomit but he stoically prevented it from happening. Gripping his axe tightly, he looked to the wolf skulled human and asked

"so any plans you would suggest?"

The human simply nodded, his face still concealed by the bone mask, the only times the elf had seen the human remove it was when they had to eat or drink and even then the human would only partly lift it, revealing an unkempt beard of black with grey strands.

"As Ulric would have it, a straightforward assault" was all he said with a hint of enthusiasm. He noticed a number of the humans began chewing dried herbs, roots, mushrooms or ingesting powders that caused them to begin twitching and clenching their fists.

Khorieus just stared at the human amazed at the sheer lack of stratagems. He had made a quick count and estimated there were over ninety creatures and knew that against large group compared to their two dozen a straightforward attack would be suicidal, either they would require aid from more or rely upon skirmisher tactics take on such a large group. He responded

"I suppose you have some sort of spell or whatever blessings your god can provide us?"

The human gently nodded and reached for a horn tied to his belt, lifting his bone mask and revealing an elderly yet strong looking face with wrinkles, scars and the left eye being blind. The human placed the horn upon his lips and blew a note which sounded almost like a wolf howl, the air soon began to grow cold, mist began forming around the area and Khorieus felt once more the stir of the winds.

The clouds began to darken and a blizzard soon engulfed the cultists and mutants, the howls of wolves could be heard in the distance, Khorieus felt his fury rise greatly, clenching his axe he noticed his rings were not attempting to resist the human's magic. Accepting the effects of the spell, the elf looked to the human who nodded, with roars of rage the warriors clad in armor and cloaks of white fur charged into the midst of the chaos horde, each filled with the blessing of Ulric, as they ran the howls of wolves grew greater and several packs of creatures emerged from the forest ran with them.

As they closed in towards the chaotic host, the Winds shifted and from the herdstone a dome of greenish light emerged, protecting a group of diseased cultists and shamans within from the blizzard. The rest of the herd though were feeling the full effects of the sudden blizzard, a bloated mutant in filthy robes pointed at the warriors and roared orders for its comrades to charge them before stepping through the barrier. Soon the battle drew between the powers of Winter and Plague.

Roaring the command word of his axe, he leapt forward into the chaos host. Propelled with the momentum, Khorieus brought his fiery axe down into an armored gor, splitting it from the top of its skull to its groin; the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. Rolling to the ground, Khorieus swiftly reach for his bow and arrows and began to fire at the beastmen in rapid succession while the wolf skulled human roared prayers to his god, his hammer broke bones and smashed open skulls while packs of wolves and the other humans all imbued with the wolf god's fury savagely fought the beasts as if they themselves were berserkers of the blood god.

After firing several arrows, Khorieus saw a group of twenty armored beastman actually forming a semblance of a phalanx and charging at the two warriors with large axes. Many wolves were easily slaughtered and swept aside from this band, the elf knew these were the more veteran warriors of the horde and was thankful for the greater challenge. Taking aim, Khorieus released an arrow which first felled a roaring bestigor holding up a banner with the sigil of the plague god, the icy projectile flew into the creature's open mouth and emerged from the back of its skull, a second bestigor was felled by an arrow to the eye. The Chracian was quickly able to slay five of the creatures with well placed shots into exposed areas of their armor before ripping his axe from the very first beastman he slew in this battle.

Roaring the name of his homeland, Khorieus charged towards the remaining bestigors, at the corner of his eye he noticed the human who was now smeared in a mix of beastman gore, bones and brain-matter. The two warriors split around the main group Khorieus weaving to the left and the human going to the right; the elf ducked under the swipe of an axe from a bestigor and responded with a thrust from the blunt head of his axe into the armored mutant's groin. Releasing an almost high pitched squeal, Khorieus was forced to jump back from the overhead chop of another beast man.

He soon saw several of the beasts were now splitting their formation to get to both he and the human, Khorieus dodged, blocked and parried their clumsy attacks with ease, he knew well enough that denying the brutes the satisfaction of killing made them frustrated and prone to mistakes. It didn't take long for the beasts to begin making these mistakes, soon the bestigors indeed began losing patience and started going everyman for himself to get to the elf. An axe-head chopped for the elf from the side, Khorieus moved back, avoiding the blade and struck his own axe downwards in an overhead chop, with perfect timing the Chracian axe struck the armored forearm of the beastman, severing it.

Khorieus continued this pattern of dodging attacks and striking arms and legs, as much as the cries of pain and the frustration of his foes amused him, the elf knew that he had to stop the ritual. A handless bestigor attempted to rush the elf with its horns, Khorieus quickly swung his axe, the blade striking the head and throat of the bestigor and knocking it to the side as if he had struck it with a hammer. Another bestigor managed to flank the elf, and swung its axe; Khorieus didn't have time to block or dodge and was struck full on the chest by the heavy blade.

The runes upon his ithilmar plate armor flared with light preventing the blade from cutting through but creating a dent that knocked the breath out of the elf and broke ribs. Gasping for breath and winded, Khorieus barely managed to roll away from another strike aimed for his back that tore a ragged line upon his lion cloak, through sheer willpower and with greater rage building up inside him, he got up with in both hands, snarling with barely restrained rage. Taking a deep breath he charged again into the fray intent on vengeance.

As Khaine's fury further filled Khorieus, he severed limbs and heads, he saw the world in perfect clarity as he saw every drop of blood, and bit of hoarfrost from the sky and fires created by his axe. The elf and the wolf skulled human got the bestigor's attention, many of them committed to slaying these two might foes, the other humans used this to their advantage and began attacking from behind or the flanks. After several minutes of fighting the beastman all laid dead with only those inside the sorcerous barrier remaining.

Khorieus whipped out his bow and began firing into the barrier, his arrows crumbled into dust upon contact, one of the humans tried to strike it with an axe which immediately rusted and fell apart. With roars of frustration and anger the humans turned to the wolf skulled one, one of the humans a large plate armored bald headed male with a dwarf like beard and a two handed hammer on his hands referred to the wolf skulled man as Albrecht.

The bald man asked if Albrecht could exorcise the barrier, the wolf skulled man began reaching into his pouch and pulled out an ivory statuette of their god. Commanding the other humans to aid him, the humans began making signs with their hands, and began praying to the wolf god. The statuette began to glow with a white light with the faith of the men, the blizzard intensified and the surviving wolves began to howl in chorus, Khorieus felt the Winds shift again and magic began to fill the man known as Albrecht.

Soon large pieces of ice as large as an orc's head began falling into the dome, Khorieus could see contrails of energy following the ice and the barrier began to flicker, he could see it begin to flash brighter, attempting to resist the power of the wolf god's faithful, after about half a minute of the chanting, the dome exploded in a flash of light that knocked the remaining warriors and wolves to the ground. As the men rose the wolves began yapping in fear and ran away, waves of nausea and dread began to fill the elf, his rings glowed and he girded himself against the influence.

He saw the robed cultists were now all raising their arms in triumph while the bloated one from before began levitating in the air, eyes growing wide with realization Khorieus knew it was too late. Before he could ready an arrow, the levitating mutant dropped and struck the ground as swiftly as if he were shot out of a catapult, the mutant's body exploded in a grisly and stinking shower that the cultists embraced like a benediction.

The winds shifted again, and Khorieus felt it, the daemon had found a host, emerging from the center of the group rose a massive bloated thing with a wide maw filled with rotted and black teeth, its sickly green flesh was covered in pustules and lesions, its stomach was wide open with entrails spilling out, and its right hand it held a massive rusted sword, a greater daemon of Nurgle, a Great Unclean One.

The daemon laughed and began to speak in a strange tongue that oddly seemed understandable to all who heard it

"How delightful that I walk the world again!" bellowed the daemon in a happy tone "But I am afraid Grandfather Nurgle has plans elsewhere so I must be off, but don't worry I have gifts for everyone!" the daemon began to give a gurgling laugh, and its body began to transform into a swarm of flies. Firing an icy arrow into the Great Unclean One, the daemon seemed unaffected by the arrow, he gave a grin with a horrible whisper reaching into Khorieus mind "see you soon little elf".

The Cultists soon began to convulse their bodies swiftly mutated and grew until they exploded showering the area with putrid bones, meat and flesh. From their bodies emerged the single eyed daemonic foot troops of the plague god, the Plaguebearers, each similar in a way to the Great Unclean One but also different in the sense that they were slim gangling things with bloated bellies cyclopean eyes and a single horn protruding from their heads. Reaching for his axe, Khorieus lit the weapon ablaze and charged forth into the daemons, the remaining humans soon followed the elf's example.

Sweeping his axe into a bloated stomach, Khorieus was showered by a hail of noxious fluids that began to make him feel sick; his amulet began to work its magic fighting the disease while his armor and rings glowed with arcane light to fight off corruption upon them. The humans were not as lucky, many fell ill with boils, lesions and buboes appearing across their flesh, the humans continued to fight while chanting and praying to the wolf god for victory. The air continued to grow colder and the daemons began to slow or showed signs of being negatively affected by the wolf god's fury.

Parrying a plague sword with the flat of his axe, Khorieus countered by striking the daemon he fought in the neck, severing it with a single swipe. Noxious fluids evaporated and soured the air, the elf wanted to gag but willed himself not to, he quickly engaged another daemon which battled the bald headed man who struggled with it. Slamming the fiery blade of his axe into the back of the other Plaguebearer's knee caps, the daemon fell with a wail and the human took a advantage by swinging his hammer directly into its eye which exploded and spattered both he and the elf with more filth.

The battle went on between men, elf and daemons and in the end the warriors of Ulric were victorious but at a heavy cost. Of the two dozen men who joined the fray only six survived for those who were wounded were now afflicted by the taint of the plague god. With grim purpose the humans put their injured out of their misery and commended the souls of the fallen to the Lord of Winter, in the distance the howls of wolves echoed but there was the tinge of sadness in their voices.

Looking to the wolf skulled human Khorieus spoke

"your men fought well, I fought alongside the Knights of the White Wolf during the Great War, and these warriors honor their memory"

The man looked to Khorieus, he features concealed under his mask which was now cracked, lifting the mask and casting it away the human known as Albrecht gave the elf a grim look, but upon his single green eye the elf could see the weariness in the man.

"The daemon travels north east to Middenheim now" he said with a tone of frustration.

Khorieus nodded, he could feel the daemon's presence on the Winds, its power was restored and it would prove to be a most dangerous of foes, he replied to the human

"I will continue my hunt, but what will you be doing?"

The human looked to his comrades and looked back to the elf

"we will give last rites to our dead, then we will travel to the Fauschlag, we know this land well and we will bring word to the Graff to rally his army"

The elf nodded and raised his right hand emulating the gesture humans tended to make when greeting one another. The man grasped the elf's hand and the two shook with tight grips the human then asked

"What is your name elf?"

"Khorieus Alatanrieth, of Chrace" the elf replied

The human nodded and said

"Albrecht Krieger, of Middenland" as the two warriors gave each a respectful look the human continued "I believe we will meet again elf"

With that Khorieus nodded back, as the humans went about their dead, the elf looked up to the Winds and could see the corruption, tightly gripping his axe he sprinted towards the woods, he headed in the direction the human claimed was towards the city of Middenheim. He ran, eager with anticipation to test his axe against such a mighty foe and end this hunt.


End file.
